Absentia: Land of Lost Dreams
by DavidOfRohan
Summary: It's been 5 years but I've come to continue the story in Absentia. New chapter will be up in a few days. This is a dark take on some Disney characters I feel warrant more attention in a mature manner. See you back in the story soon.
1. Chapter the First

**Absentia: Land of Lost Dreams**

**A Dark Disney Tale**

**Chapter 1**

In the failing light of the day, in a forest on the edge of nowhere, stood a grove surrounded by trees of many species. In this grove stood a wigwam made from the hide of an animal whose race no longer existed on this Plane. The forest grew in a land where time had passed by, and where very few inhabitants still resided.

Something was happening in that man made structure, the forest denizens felt it, squeaks and bomburs huddled in their holes, tree mice and hawklers hunkered in their nests. The trees themselves grew still as even the Four Winds were silent. Something was about to happen, whether it was good or not remained to be seen.

Outside of the structure a figure stood guard. Sleek and compact yet physically well built, the Guardian wore a hooded cloak of dark green overtop boiled leather armour. A strung longbow leaned against the tent close at hand and a long sword hung in a scabbard by his side with the name Albion etched along its side. The Guardian scanned the tree line surrounding the small clearing, taking aims to spot any irregularities. His ears were also attuned to the sounds of the forest, a moment before the ritual that was now being held inside, he heard the tiniest chirp of the wood beetle as though it was next to him. Lastly his sense of smell was so keen that if a stranger approached from upwind the guardian would be aware, before he even came within a half-mile. But no wind stirred now.

The forest noises were completely silent now. The denizens of the woods shied away from the area as the ceremony in the wigwam started to take place. The few rare times that it was allowed to occur always caused this effect, but the Guardian had gotten used to it since being with his charge for the past few months.

There was little remembered leading up to the meeting with the Shaman. It had explained to him that he was summoned, brought forth before the evil, which had spread to so many lands already, could take him as well. The consequence was that most of his memories would be lost, at least temporarily, although his sense of self was still intact. He vaguely recalled thievery was a part of his lifestyle, if that was true he questioned if he truly wanted to recall the rest. He was neither angry nor upset now; he had adapted to the change and now willingly served the Shaman as her guardian.

He could feel the heat emitting through the skins of the wigwam. Beads of sweat covered the outside as the cold air made contact with the heated animal skins. The Shaman told him it was necessary to create this sweat lodge to thin the Veil. He never pretended to understand he knew exactly what she was talking about but he usually understood enough, and he trusted her implicitly. He figured she was communicating with someone over a vast distance, judging by the sounds made from inside when she performed this ritual. It wasn't his job to worry about such things; he was here to protect her during this vulnerable time, this was his duty.

The crack of a branch made the fur on his back bristle. He swung his muzzle in the direction of the sound and sniffed. Whatever was there he could not detect them with his nose. Not wanting to remain in the open, the Guardian grabbed up his longbow and quiver then dashed into the tree line opposite the intruders. The trees were not very dense; they were mainly pines, which robbed the undergrowth of sunlight and left the ground bare, but mixed within the pines were trees that grew a strange four-pointed bluish leaf and stood a good forty feet high. It was up one of these that the Guardian quickly scrambled to, it was a little awkward with the longbow around his back but he finally found a good vantage point of the tent and the opposite tree line.

A minute went by before he heard another sound, but this time he saw movement to accompany it. A bulky form stood at the very edge of the grove, partially hidden in the shadows of the great pines. The Guardian recognised it immediately from the horn protrusions and granite like skin.

_ A Gargoyle_.

How it arrived so soon after sunset worried him, for during the day a Gargoyle was naught but a stone statue, incapable of movement, speech, or waking thoughts. This means that The Sorcerer had to have placed one near to the camp to get here so quickly. Unless it was simply ill luck which let them camp so near to one of his sleeping agents. Their race came in different shapes and sizes, some with forms so dissimilar that it was a wonder how they were part of the same species at all.

Now however was not the time to worry about it. The beasts were intelligent, crafty, swift and strong; the Guardian had not yet killed a Gargoyle though was nearly done in by just such a creature upon his arrival here, if not for the intervention of the Shaman.

He selected an arrow from his quiver, which he had hung upon a short branch in easy reach, notched it and drew back. He aimed for an eye, one of the most vulnerable spots, when the second Gargoyle appeared. This one was smaller then the first and was likely more agile. The larger of the two was still the most dangerous he surmised. Again he brought his bow up and took aim only to growl a curse as another one lumbered into his view on the East flank of the wigwam.

"Bloody Hell." The Guardian cursed under his breath.

Without a second's more hesitation he let his arrow fly at the large one, it hit home but he didn't stop to congratulate himself, already drawing for the smallest of the three, the arrow he chose had a head made from the horn of their race, he only had two. The howl of pain from his first target distracted the small one even as his second arrow pierced its chest, pinning him to a tree. That was a killing shot even for a Gargoyle and before his eyes the little one sputtered blood from its mouth brought up by a punctured heart and laid still. The big one roared in rage as he tore the arrow from his eye and snapped it in half.

The surviving one let out another bellow upon seeing his lifeless kin pinned to the trunk; it seemed to the Guardian that the monster actually exhibited remorse at its fellow's death, something he didn't think they felt. The third still hung back, whether it was unsure of what to do or because it was being cautious the Guardian wasn't sure.

The larger one scanned the trees opposite him, looking for their attacker. "Come down here coward, face me like a Gargoyle." It yelled up to him in a deep bellow, the remaining eye of the beast grew intensely red. "You killed my friend, come here so I can crush you."

"Well now, to me that seems like a reason **not** to come down, wouldn't you say?"

The creature grew incensed and strode towards the wigwam. The Guardian drew and fired but this time the creature brought one of its wings around and batted it out of the air.

"You're beginning to annoy me pest. I'll take yourwoman now and drive my fist through her heart, then you will know the pain I feel."

Quick as a heartbeat the Guardian was down the tree and speeding towards the great beast that stood twice his size. With his long sword drawn the Guardian leaped at his foe and managed to stagger him back a few steps, momentarily surprised at the speed of his cloaked adversary. But it quickly regained its composure and whipped its tail around, the Guardian ducked under the ferocious living club, the breeze it created with its near miss pulled back his hood, finally revealing to his attacker just whom he was facing. A look of dumb surprise crossed its features at first, and then it let out a mocking laugh. "A fox that walks like a man? This is the Shaman's great guardian?"

"I never claimed to be great, but guardian I am." The fox leaped to the attack once again but the move was actually a feint, as the creature swiped at his head with its talons the Guardian rolled to the left and swung his sword at its right calf. Surprisingly the Gargoyle was quicker then his appearance for he leapt above the blow and flapped its wings once to keep it airborne for a fraction of a second, enough for its tail to come around again and land a blow to the fox. The Guardian was thrown back; his sword flew from his grasp as he skidded along the ground creating a bare patch amongst the fallen pine needles. The leather armour kept his bones from being smashed but the wind was taken from his body. Spots popped in front of his eyes and he could feel the ground vibrate as his nemesis strode towards him to finish the job. But the Guardian was not only quick of body he was also cunning. He grasped handfuls of dirt and needles and waited for his vision to clear. With one hand the Gargoyle picked him up by the front of his cloak; he could feel the rank breath of the beast as he was brought closer to its face.

"Hmph, it seems you were right. You aren't so great after all."

"Perhaps," the Guardian replied, "but I just need to be little greater then you."

With that he brought his right arm up in an arc that the beast clearly saw, he caught his arm with his free hand, a look of triumph in its remaining eye, to which the Guardian now filled with dirt and needles with his other hand, pushing it hard into the socket. The Gargoyle cried out in rage and pain hurling the fox away from him. The Guardian twisted and tumbled in the air, righting himself and landing more or less on his feet. He spotted his sword in the failing light and ran for it.

The Gargoyle cleared the grit fromits eye, saw his quarry through its tears and leaped to where the fox was headed. The Guardian was quick but the legs of the Gargoyle were powerful and he landed just ahead of the Guardian, snatched up the sword and made to cleave the fox in two. The Guardian drew forth a dirk from his boot although his doubts were great of being able to parry the great blow.

It was stopped short by the arrival of the Shaman. She stood there in the awakening moonlight, sweat glistening upon her naked skin, her long black hair falling over her chest, a simple loin cloth adorned her waist, all this would have given a human pause, even if they were enemies, but no Gargoyle under the Sorcerer's power would ever hesitate in the sight of such beauty. What gave him pause was the thought of presenting her to its Master, and the reward he would receive in gratitude.

"My Lady." Her Guardian exclaimed desperately, "You must flee, he means to…"

"I know what he means to do, my friend." She said in a calm tone devoid of fear.

"The Master will be very happy to finally meet you." No longer did it see the Guardian as a threat, it only had eyes for his prize. The fox made ready to attack but a quick look, a shift of the eyes from the Shaman stayed his hand.

"No doubt. But now is not the time and it will not be you who delivers me. No nameless one, your page in this book has come to an end."

"Pfah. You overestimate your powers human cur."

"And you underestimate them. Thankfully your entire race is not as easily swayed to darkness."

From the shadows of the trees a low grumbling sounded, akin to granite being ground under foot. As the Gargoyle slowly turned towards it, not quite believing what it was hearing, a shape sprang from those same shadows. The Guardian leapt to the side of his lady and pushed her away as the Gargoyle, the third one he spotted earlier, bowled the behemoth over, its iron jaws latched to its throat. The enemy thrashed and fought against the weight of its attacker, but the paws of the stout dog-like Gargoyle kept it pinned, its talons cutting deep into the flesh of its prey.

The Guardian was at a loss, never had he heard his lady speak of a Gargoyle turning on its own. But a reassuring hand upon his shoulder led him to trust her. Soon the struggles subsided as the oxygen was slowly cut off from the creature, then with a final shake of the new arrivals head, the enemy's neck snapped and that was the end.

The canine Gargoyle lifted its head; its tongue licked the blood from its muzzle then shook its head in an effort to clean itself. The Shaman moved away from her protector and approached it. The Guardian followed close by, picking up his sword that the deceased had dropped, but keeping it in hand. "My Lady, I don't understand. Are you saying that this creature is not under the Sorcerer's sway?" How can this be?"

The Shaman bent down beside their saviour and stroked the rough grey skin on its head; the creature leaned into her, almost tipping her over until she braced herself for its weight. She smiled at the gentleness it now displayed in contradiction with its violent nature a moment ago. "He was not born to darkness like the others." She looked around to her protector and gave him a wry smile. "Perhaps we can discuss this after we dispose of these bodies and with myself more appropriately dressed."

If a fox could blush he would have, instead he looked away, cleared his throat and sheathed his sword. "Ahem, well, yes, I mean of course, why don't you do that and the creature and I will…ah."

"His name is Bronx."

"Bronx is it?" At the sound of his name Bronx's yellow eyed gaze looked up at the fox. "Well, then. Pleased to meet you Bronx." He leaned towards the mystic. "Can he understand me?"

"Yes, but his breed doesn't speak, they are much like he acts, dog-like and incapable of spoken word." Her Guardian showed an amused grin, which she caught and laughed in response. "Present company excluded of course, but do not take that as a sign of a simple mind. Bronx is very intelligent, we've been having conversations for the last two weeks, but I'll explain all that later. If you'll excuse me." The fox nodded as she slipped off to the wigwam, before entering she turned back to him. "I thank-you for your protection. It was very brave of you."

He turned and bowed his head. "I only wish I could have done more, my lady."

"You did all that was required, Robin of the Hood." She then disappeared between the flaps.


	2. Chapter the Second

Chapter 2 

In the morning after a breakfast of bacon, fried potato slices and onions, Robin and the Shaman broke down the shelter and packed it for travel. The Shaman was now dressed in a doeskin tunic that reached to her ankles and soft leather leggings adorned with frills alongside either leg, in her hand she carried a wooden staff with many charms dangling from the end; a fur cloak was also thrown over her shoulders made from a mountain cat. Summer was almost over and the cool autumn air was now encroaching from the far North emitting from the Land of the Frost Lords. Robin again wore his leather armour and long cloak. Shortly before they were prepared to leave, two horses; mates had arrived at the broken down camp. She had summoned them in the evening prior to the Gargoyles attack, just after Bronx's summoning. With the fire pit buried and the heating stones scattered the trio left behind the battleground that was their resting place, along with the buried bodies of their enemy, setting off East, towards the rising sun.

The trees became thick just outside of the grove so the two bareback riders lent all of their concentration to picking their way through the dense foliage, but after a time the trees thinned out and they were soon atop a stony surface that seemed to be part of a great rock Shield that stretched across the land. At one point after they had been steadily climbing up an incline they entered an open rock face ringed by strange stone formations that looked out above a vast valley hundreds of feet below. The stones were of different sizes and looked to have once bore the likenesses of birds, but they were severely worn down by long exposure to the elements and had since lost the detail that once existed upon them. When entering this area a sense of tranquillity settled upon them and the Shaman explained that this was a holy cairn, and that they would be safe here.

The Shaman dismounted from her mare, she rubbed her neck and spoke the equine language soothingly in the mare's ear, and in response the mare nuzzled the Shaman's face and gave her a lick. The holy woman laughed and produced an apple from a leather pouch at her side. She then pulled two large sacks; their ends tied together, from the back of the mare where they hung and released her and her mate from their services. Robin had likewise dismounted and removed his belongings from the back of his steed. Robin was always in awe of his lady's abilities and the special bond she had with animals. He knew and accepted that she was a user of what might be called magic, he did not consider himself superstitious but there was no other explanation, none with any reason. So when faced with something that defies logic, he thought it best to believe the unreasonable.

After setting his equipment down Robin then approached Bronx, earlier the canine Gargoyle had insisted most vehemently, by shoving Robin away, that he wished to carry the wigwam himself. Far be it for Robin to argue with a creature that weighed five stone more then he, so a makeshift harness was made out of branches and extra twine to carry the shelter, the beast had no problem whatsoever carrying the load, in fact he had an easier time then the horses who only carried one rider each along with some personal possessions. It was now midday and the three settled down to eat some dried provisions and to talk.

"In about a weeks time if all goes well we will arrive in Pointe Nexus. There I hope to meet with a friend, providing she were not hindered as well. But first I promised you a tale." She said inclining her head towards her guardian. Robin had begun to sharpen his sword but he held off, lit a pipe and settled back against one of the cairn rocks and prepared to listen.

**The Tale of the Gargoyles**

_It wasn't long after the Sorcerer came into power when he realized he needed loyal servants and an army to carry out his will. He did not trust to the subservience of men, he knew of their strengths and weaknesses, or at least he thought he did. He wanted something more, something that he could call his own and if it cowed the people he ruled the better for it. After he ensorcelled the Sultan and kept the façade in the city that nothing was amiss, he went into his personal study; where he kept his vast library of lore and locked the door. _

_For months he studied about the races of the world, their strengths and weaknesses, their ecology and habits. He considered Centaurs as minions but they were too much like Man and would be useless indoors. He once looked upon Ogres and Cyclops but considered them to be overly dim-witted. At last he discovered mention of a race of beings that during the day were silent menacing statues but at night became living flesh of great strength and prowess. This race was scattered all over the world and they defended their homes to the bitter end. The Sorcerer surmised that this was something he needed._

_So he left on a great journey that would take him across the world, but being a great conjuror a trip that would take years only took him weeks. He visited the Land of the Rising Sun and from there he went to The Emerald Isles and then to The Great Empire. From each place where he encountered the ancient race he found that they were totally loyal to the master of the keep, castle, pyramid, or fort. Each home was protected by a single clan and for the most part they followed the orders and will of the clan leader, that leader was distinguished usually by his strength and intelligence; also by the fact that he was the only one in the clan to posses a name._

_Now when it is said that 'for the most part they followed the orders of the clan leader' pay close attention to my wording. What the Sorcerer discovered that like all intelligent races they were susceptible to human emotions, a weakness that the Sorcerer was quick to exploit. Among each clan that he came into contact with he found one individual willing to betray his kin for a shiny bauble or a promise of power. North, East, West, or South there was always one Judas among the clan. So in exchange for a magic ring that would render the wearer invisible or a potion to grant the drinker great strength or a sword that could cleave granite in two, the Sorcerer made an exchange everywhere he went._

_Now remember that the Sorcerer went into the World in search of minions that would be loyal to him, what he came back with was something better. Eggs. A pair from every clan in the world that he could find, soon he would have hatchlings of his very own to raise and mould as he'd see fit. He also discovered a way to duplicate the eggs that had already hatched using his magic and an ancient alchemical recipe that involved the blood of the Gargoyle and a piece of the original shell._

_Using this secret process the Sorcerer created a second generation, that in his eyes was superior in nature to the first hatchlings. With the second generation he was able to speed up their ageing process and magically feed them the knowledge and awareness that he was their lord and master. He dubbed these second generations as Darkgoyles, for they were evil in nature and fed off of their masters' dark magic. That was another way in which he keeps them loyal, for they needed their master alive in order to consume the magic he gave them to keep up their superior strength._

_The Sorcerer also tried to rid them of the need to change to stone during the day, but a far more powerful wizard cast the spell that they were under and the Sorcerer did not wish to face that man, yet. In the end he decided that since their stone form gave them increased recuperative powers it was best to leave them as they were. He would hire mercenaries for the day while his Gargoyles would keep them in order during the night._

_So word spread that the Sorcerer had an invincible army of winged creatures at his disposal, which brought the city he lived in under his thumb. Now boldly and openly he took the throne by publicly executing the Sultan and keeping his daughter as his personal slave. What little resistance that stood in his way was soon was crushed by his legion of cutthroats and the Darkgoyles. _

_Now this brings me to the first generation of hatchlings. Although they were taught the same lessons by the Sorcerer albeit through more traditional methods and not through magic, and although many of them remain loyal to the Sorcerer, not all followed his dark path. Their leader whom the Sorcerer had named Ahriman, which translates to "fiendish spirit" in the common tongue, led some of The First as they called themselves in a rebellion. But they were young and had little chance of success; most were killed but a few survived including Ahriman, although the Sorcerer made that out to be otherwise. _

_Their current location however is unknown, it is talked that they still seek a way to defeat their former master. It is also rumoured that Ahriman was taken alive and is tortured continually for his transgression and as an example of betrayal. After that attempted coup the Sorcerer no longer gave his brood names to individualize themselves. A sense of identity breeds' free thought was his reckoning. He only refers to them by the season they were hatched in. That is their sad and tragic tale. _

Robin looked over to Bronx, the Shaman saw the questioning look in his eyes but allowed him to voice his query. "Then Bronx here, he is not of the Sorcerers spawn? Is he one of The First?"

"He is neither, for remember that the Sorcerer procured eggs from an existing clan, although not on this time-passed plane. I called Bronx forth from a different plane of existence just as I called you. However his world is still out of reach from the evil ones' grasp. I tried to call forth his whole clan but my spirit was not strong enough. Ever since the Sorcerer created the Black Tower of Babil on this world he has been able to draw forth much of Absentia's magic into it, which drastically limits my own available spirit magic. Also you'll notice that it is quite obviously daylight, yet here he walks."

"I was wondering when you'd explain that to me." He grinned while puffing on his pipe.

"Patience is a virtue Robin, so you must be virtuous indeed. I'm sad to say it was not my doing, it seems the twin moons have a peculiar effect on our Gargoyle friend, why him and not the others I cannot yet say, but we are blessed that he does not need to transform every day, I just pray that it lasts."

"What do you mean?"

"Magic is a fickle thing, one day he may revert to stone in an inappropriate moment. Say while we're in a canoe or crossing a rope bridge."

"Your words make me ill at ease, my lady, I don't think I wish him to sleep next to me in case that does happen. I don't relish having quite a heavy statue sprawled atop of me in the morning. He finished with his pipe and tapped out the ashes on a rock "Why wasn't Bronx affected by the journey like I was?"

"You mean your memory loss?"

He nodded.

"I can only guess at that, I believe it was because your world was already being engulfed by the Sorcerer's magic, it made your transition more, difficult."

"Hmph, I should say so." He looked at Bronx. "You're a lucky bugger, y'know that?"

Bronx opened his mouth wide and yawned in response.

Robin smiled and tossed him the last of his dried meat, which the beast happily caught and swallowed whole. "Bronx? What does that mean? It sounds foreign."

"I suspect it is," she said smiling, "though I do not know its meaning."

Robin rose from his sitting position and dusted off his trousers, giving his tail a quick swish to shake off some dirt. "I thank-you for the tale lady Shaman, but if we are going to descend this cliff then we best start, it may take a few hours and the noonday shadows lengthen."

"Yes Rob, we have dallied here longer then I expected, but this was a tale that needed to be heard."

"I do not argue that with you, knowing the Gargoyles we slew earlier were nothing but the Sorcerers conjurations has put my mind at ease."

The Shaman's face grew grim but as Robin set about buckling his sword she held back telling him that the creatures they fought earlier were those of The First; the ones still loyal to their master. He had not yet encountered a Darkgoyle, she prayed that it would be a long time coming when he did, for she did not think their victory will be as easily won.


	3. Chapter the Third

Chapter 3 

The journey down the cliff face took most of the afternoon, with no rope long enough to reach the bottom they had to make their way carefully down the rocky face. Robin had lashed them all together with the rope length available to them; a silken cord that the Shaman had woven. From there Robin would lead the way down searching out footholds for the Shaman, although she probably did not need the help; she was in her thirty-first year and as hale and hearty as ever. She followed closely above her protector and at times he had to tell her to let him get ahead of her a little in case they needed to back track, such was her ability to keep up. One would think that descending such a vertical surface would have been difficult for the dog-like Gargoyle but such was not the case. Bronx made it abundantly clear that he was as good a climber as either of them mainly due to the fact that he simply made his own footholds. He rammed his feet into the rock and simply walked down, Robin told him to move a little off to the side so he did not shower them with rocks and pebbles. The Shaman then suggested that Bronx lead the way so they could literally follow in his footsteps, Robin reluctantly agreed.

Near to the bottom the land came up to meet the cliff allowing them to walk down the rest of the way with relative ease. Robin scouted out a shelter for them before the sun had fully set, a cave that may have been the home of a full-grown bombur; a badger-like creature similar in size to a cave bear. Robin ascertained that the cave had been abandoned the previous season. The cave opening was wide but low and went in about twenty feet at a slight angle, which helped to keep the wind out. As the Shaman made camp Robin and Bronx went out to collect wood for a fire.

It had not rained for a week in this area so dry tinder was plentiful, Robin had also located a small stream that ran from the cliffs, he'd use their flask water for cooking tonight and refill them on the morrow. Both moons were out on this night; Cinder the White Moon and Ash the elusive Black Moon. The Shaman had taught Robin much about the new world he now inhabited, but much was still alien to him. The White Moon was much like the one he remembered from his own world, bright and luminous going through the different phases each month. The Black Moon, it was said only to be seen in times of strife and trouble, it was now seen at least once a month where before the time of the Sorcerer it appeared every hundred years or so. The Shaman had been recording the appearances of Ash for many years now. The last recorded time was when Robin's world had been engulfed in darkness. Robin wondered which world was now being consumed.

When Robin and Bronx arrived back in camp carrying their load of dried sticks and tinder (Bronx carrying his in his maw) the Shaman was busily scribbling in her parchment book. Soon a fire was made and they were eating more dried rations and a vegetable stew. When they had finished Robin lit his pipe and went about sharpening his sword with a whetstone. Bronx lay by the fire and licked at a cut he received during the battle with the Gargoyle. The Shaman was sitting at the mouth of the cave gazing at the stars and recording something in her book, she had with her a lit taper to see by. The night was uneventful but in the morning the Shaman woke up early and was ready to go by the time Robin opened his eyes. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched, looking around he saw his possessions were packed away, four bloated waterskins hung around Bronx's neck and the fire pit was dashed. A wooden bowl filled with stream water sat close to him and a serving of flat bread and cheese lay wrapped in a leaf beside that. The Shaman was busily repairing a hole in Robin's boot; she smiled as he sat up.

"Good morning, I took the liberty to break camp while you slept, we need to be off quickly."

The fox was alert as he splashed the cold yet bracing water upon his furry face. "Why? Is something amiss?"

"Not yet, but soon. Ash is appearing more frequently, I take that as a sign of the Sorcerer's increase in power. If that is the cause then we must double our efforts in reaching Pointe Nexus."

"If such was the urgency my lady, then why did you not awaken me earlier?"

"Because I believe you will need your strength this day."

Robin looked around warily, testing his senses. She noticed his look of concern.

"Perhaps not today, but soon. We will be skirting close to one of the Sorcerers allies in a day or two. The Horned King does not take kindly to the living."

The three set off before the morning dew had dried up, they made good time through The Wild, which the people named this part of the land or perhaps it was always called such. Robin commented on the strange looking wildlife here, the Shaman told him that animals from many different worlds live and thrive here, it seemed as if this world chose the right mixture so one would not dominate the other, even if they were alien to each other. When questioned about this world's name she had shrugged and told him it was simply called The World, although the continent they lived on was named Absentia; The Land of Lost Dreams.

The weather became clement as morning turned to afternoon; they came across an abandoned cabin, possibly belonging to a woodcutter. They took their rest here then followed a footpath that led more or less the way they wanted. After about an hour more of walking brought them to a roadway, Robin motioned his companions to halt while he investigated the area. It was little used by the look of it; more of wagon trails then an actual road for the grass was near to Robin's waist. He inspected the blades closely but could detect no sign of recent passage; he reported this to the Shaman.

"I believe we would be safe for the time being, the trees provide a canopy over the trail that will keep us covered from the Sorcerer's winged spies and we will increase our speed by a significant amount."

"I agree," she said. "Then let us continue at least until the trail veers off our course." So the three now took an easier path and continued on until nightfall. They then went into the woods a good two hundred yards before making camp.

The morning came and again they set off early, it was about one hour before noon when they came across the carriage. It was a covered wagon meant for passengers, the harnesses that held the horses lay empty. Bronx emitted a low growl when he spotted it prompting Robin to unsheathe his sword. A few skeletal remains lay strewn about the covered transport, tattered fabric loosely hung off the bones. Rotted flesh the colour of moss still clung in strips to some of them. Robin put a hand to his nose to try and block out some of the smell. Bronx refused to go closer then ten feet, Robin turned to glare at him. "If I can take it, you certainly can." Bronx glared back and moved closer. There were five bodies in all, male except for the one woman in the carriage; which was not in the same state of decay as the others.

"Strange." Said Robin as he looked over the bodies.

"What is?" The Shaman asked from his side.

"Well, look at that one, and that one over there," he said pointing at two corpses. "See how they are clothed? Both wear simple clothing with no distinguishing marks; I'd mark them as bandits commoners or perhaps brigands."

She took up his thought. "While the other three were guards for the lady in the coach, yes I see. Those three there," she pointed at the remaining bodies, "all wear a surcoat, or the remains of one."

"Yes, but who won in this attack? The bandits or the guards?" Robin scratched his chin. "Surely they couldn't have killed each other."

"Perhaps one lived but did not bury his dead." The Shaman suggested. Bronx was now sniffing at the carriage as the two talked.

"Perhaps…"

"But you don't believe so."

"No. And what is more puzzling is the state of decay on the woman."

"She may have been mortally wounded and died later, but the decay is so vastly different." She moved to the carriage now and opened the door wider, the corpse was blue and the skin pulled tight against the bone, long brown hair was tied back in a tail and the dress it wore was of a deep green.. "No animals have scavenged from it, not even birds."

"They were heading the way we came," Robin looked back. "The tracks here are fresher, much fresher." Robin stated as he inspected the ground behind the carriage. Bronx, who had walked up behind the Shaman again began to growl. The medicine woman turned back to see what was the matter, he now was barking viciously at the carriage. The Shaman then felt a sudden coldness creep over her, she snapped her head back to the corpse and saw black eyes staring back.


	4. Chapter the Fourth

**Chapter 4 **

The dead woman's hand grasped the Shaman by the wrist; causing her to cry out in pain as the cold touch seared through her skin, numbing everything below the wrist. Robin flung open the door opposite and drove his sword point through the creature's chest and out through the back into the seat. The living corpse released its victim and clutched at the blade. Robin snarled and pulled out the sword, slicing off some of its fingers as he did so. The Shaman drew away from the carriage clutching her wrist, the skin of which looked to be frostbitten. "Robin! Get away from it. It's a Wight, if it touches you it will consume your life." She then reached into her medicine pouch and drew forth a small white stone, this she held over her injured wrist and began a hurried chant. The stone started to glow and the coldness of the dead slowly ebbed away.

Robin came around to his lady. "It was dead, and now…. I'm beginning to not like this world." The Wight exited the carriage and stared balefully at the trio, she then looked at the corpses strewn around the carriage.

"Oh, no." Whispered the Shaman. "Robin, you and Bronx dispatch the minions, leave the Wight to me."

"Minions, my lady what do you…"? With a hand gesture from the Wight the skeletal remains of the bandits and guards rose to their feet, a cold blue light glowing dully in their eye sockets.

"Oh. Right then." Robin gripped his blade in both hands, the fur on his back rose at the realization that what he faced no longer should be walking, but living here had hardened him for such encounters and he was ready now to face just about anything. He looked over once more at the corpse woman. "Are you sure m'lady? That undead harlot looks not to be toyed with."

"I can do this, she is far beyond mere steel and claw now, just keep those others at bay." She instructed her guardian.

Robin circled to the right and made some taunting gestures. Three of the skeletons responded by coming towards him. The other two came at the Shaman who backed away a few steps. Then Bronx moved in. The Shaman smirked, "I bet you never met a Gargoyle who likes bones." He leapt upon the first one, crushing it down into the earth and grasping its head in his jaws. The other leapt upon Bronx's back and raked him with its skeletal fingers, tearing to pieces the wigwam strapped to him. They tumbled round and round locked in a deadly embrace

The Wight hissed at the Shaman then casually walked towards her. The medicine woman held her staff forth and drew a symbol in the dirt with the butt of it. The undead creature looked upon it and recoiled in horror. "This is the symbol of life eternal, the opposite of what you represent, ever living death." She reached for a chain that hung around her neck and pulled the pendent out that lay against her chest. "Now that I know what you are I can dispose of your evil spirit." The Wight was back against the carriage, cringing in fear from the wooden symbol that the Shaman now held forth. The Shaman was but a few steps away, holding her holy symbol out with conviction. Then the creature did something she didn't expect as in one quick motion it reached up with both hands and plucked out its own eyes then crushed them underfoot. "By the Great Mother," she whispered as the Wight's hands thrusted out for her throat.

Robin had his hands full. His sword had not done very much damage against his foes for they had no organs to stab at, nor tendons to sever. He hacked at their bones, which only managed to chip pieces off, not even slowing them down. He on the other hand was made of very living flesh that the skeletons wanted very much to see how many holes they could poke into it. Somehow Robin had managed to taunt all three of the carriage guards and all of them were armed. One wielded a sword, the second a mace and the third a spear. They also seemed to retain some memory of their skills for Robin was hard pressed to parry the incoming blows. "Oh just lay down and die already, are you so daft that you don't even know your dead?" Apparently they didn't for the mace-wielding skeleton came in again and tried to pulp his head. Robin deflected the blow then swept his foot out, knocking it to the ground. He plunged his sword point through the wrist joint separating its hand and therefore its weapon. The swift fox snatched up the mace, he pried the still clinging hand off the handle with his blade then swung the weapon at the former owner. The mace caved in the side of the skull like so much pottery, the useless shrivelled brain slid out of the cranium, the blue eyes went dark and the rest of it fell apart. Robin looked at the other two and smiled a wide toothy grin at them. "Next?" He asked.

The Wight was kept at bay by the Shaman's staff, which she held across her body, the undead woman laid atop her, grasping at her throat. The Shaman was by no means weak, she was thirty-two and physically in shape, but the sheer wait of the dead body bearing down on her was causing her arms to tremble in exhaustion. Brackish pus from the creature's eye sockets dripped on her face and where they fell blisters appeared. Suddenly the creature was pulled from her, the Shaman sat up to see Bronx, still with the skeleton on its back, dragging the Wight away from her by its dress. The Wight screeched in frustration, clawing the ground trying to stop its forceful removal. The skeleton was leaving a bloody trail on the Gargoyles back and continued to do so. Earlier Bronx had tried to shake the thing off but it had wrapped its legs tightly around his waist keeping it anchored. The Shaman stood up and hastily made an even larger holy symbol in the churned up soil just as the Wight managed to turn itself around and place its hands upon Bronx's face. The Gargoyle yelped in pain as the burning cold stung him, he released his grip on the Wight.

The skeleton atop his back raised its bony claws again but was brutally halted as Robin's newly acquired weapon shattered its left leg. Bronx looked at the leg and then over its shoulder at his bothersome rider. He then gave two great shakes of his body and sent the bony enemy to the ground, then all two hundred fifty pounds of him came crashing down on the now brittle bones leaving naught but powder in his wake.

The Wight was now standing again and this time came after Robin, the guardian held his sword out with the mace at the ready in his left hand, he was surprised to see that even though the creature no longer possessed eyes it still knew where he was. But he would not test his skills against it this day, for his sworn ward had snuck behind the witch and pressed her staff against its throat and had begun pulling it backwards, keeping it off balance. The undead tried to lay its unholy hands upon the medicine woman but she had wrapped strips of her own clothing around them for protection, now the Shaman brought it over to the symbol of life she engraved into the dirt and forced it atop the mark. The results were instantaneous as the body exploded sending flesh and bone in all directions. The battle was won.

The three companions were wounded but they would recover. The Shaman made a poultice to lie on Bronx's back; the gouges on his back weren't as deep as first thought but the poultice would keep infection from setting in. Robin had some bumps and bruises but was relatively unhurt. The skeleton's claws did not penetrate his leather armour so the patching up he needed were to his cloak. The Shaman's arm was on the mend but she had not yet regained total feeling where the Wight had touched her.

After the battle they piled all the bones and bodies into the carriage and set fire to it. The Shaman told Robin that this was the handiwork of The Horned King, Ruler of the Deadlands. No one was totally sure if he was man underneath that antlered skull or if that was his head, but all feared him. He was said to be a great swordsman and rider, and all who were cut by his blade; named Chill, did not rise again. He also had in his possession a great cauldron that could raise the dead and serve under him. No doubt the Wight was a part of his army, placed here to kill the unwary traveller and feed his army. The Shaman did not mention the possibility that they were placed here to possibly slay them, for the Horned King had an uneasy alliance with the Sorcerer. It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination that the Sorcerer asked his ally to help him to kill or capture them, especially if the reward was sweet enough, that reward being more bodies to fuel his ever-swelling army.

After the fire had burnt out and they scattered the remaining blackened bones, they picked up their packs and moved on from this cursed place. As the trio walked in silence away from the carnage the sounds of the forest again let them be heard. Finally Robin spoke.

"What kind of world is this that contains such beauty and peace one moment and such depravity the next?" The Shaman halted and looked at him.

"All worlds have its beauty and ugliness, some just show it more plainly then others. Your world had its share of each I'm sure."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that, but gargoyles and walking skeletons I think I would remember."

"No, your home was not given to vulgar magiks, you had the One God to keep those in check. Here there are no greater gods, only those who think themselves as such."

"Like the Sorcerer and this Horned King." Robin stated.

"Yes, and others I have not yet mentioned. This is not a natural world Robin."

"That goes without saying."

"No," she pressed, "I mean that this world was pulled together from others, or at least the essence of them were, it is hard to explain, let us continue walking and I will try." Robin nodded and they started again. "When the Sorcerer received his powers and after he disposed of his greatest enemy he knew that he wanted to reshape the world in an image of his choosing. However as great as he was, even he could not undo and reshape history, so he set upon a plan to cast a spell that would effectively create a new world on a different plane of existence."

"Sounds like delusions of grandeur."

"It was, and if it wasn't for the help of an enslaved fey being, he wouldn't have succeeded. As it were, the spell was cast but the fey was smarter then the Sorcerer thought, he made the world from images and memories of places he had been before. You see the fey being had been around for many thousands of years, his was the power to grant wishes and dreams but always in the servitude of others. He had been to the past and had seen the future, or possibilities of it at least. So the world he created was one that did not contain mere slaves to the Sorcerers power, but sentient beings pulled from various points in time and in some cases the imagination."

"Suffice it to say the Sorcerer was not happy." She continued. "He wanted a pliant infant world that he could mould to his twisted imagination, what he received was a land filled with beings with individual thoughts and feelings. Ones that the fey hoped would rise up against him."

"Like yourself?" Robin asked.

"Yes, I came from the Sorcerer's world but not his time. But my story is for another day." She looked at him and gave a small smile; Robin nodded and indicated that she should continue.

"The one thing that the Sorcerer wanted was for the city he conquered to be transported here with all of its surrounding land intact. That is why a vast desert can be found to the south. It is also there that we will find his undoing."

Robin interrupted, "What happened to the fey?" Surely he would help us if he hates his master so much, and the enemy of the Sorcerer you briefly mentioned."

"Dead. The young man who opposed him was dealt with swiftly and as for the fey, that is what I meant when I mentioned his undoing. You see the Sorcerer placed him back in his prison and then in his prison's prison, a place that only the very bravest would dare venture. The enemy of the Sorcerer once went there and found the fey until it was stolen from him. Now when the Sorcerer's land was transported here the resting place of the fey was also brought, much to the chagrin of the Sorcerer who wished to be the only power on this world."

"But he's not, what about the Horned King?" Asked her guardian.

"The Horned King came here on his own, even I do not know the full tale of his being and arrival. As I was saying, if we can free the fey then we can undo all that the Sorcerer has wrought."

"But we need help."

"Yes."

They came to a stone bridge that spanned over a dry riverbed. Bronx sniffed at it then warily began to cross. The Shaman followed with Robin crossing last. When nothing eventful occurred they continued following the road which now, thankfully bent away from The Deadlands.

"Who are these allies? Have you met them?"

She nodded, "In a way. I communicated with them through the dreamscape, a place where the Sorcerer cannot travel." Robin raised a whiskered brow, she explained. "The dreamscape is where all go when they sleep, I and a few others have learned to travel there while in our deepest sleep."

"You mean spiritually and not physically."

"Yes, in a way. While there I was able to search out prospective beings that could help me, it was there that I found four individuals who seek a purpose in life."

"And they will help us?"

"This is what I hope, I have spoken to them in their dreams but whether they chose to believe in me remains to be seen."

"If they are true of heart and wish to bring down the tyranny of the Sorcerer then I'm sure they will not need much convincing," Robin assured her.

"Oh, I have no doubt they wish to see the Sorcerer dead, most everyone does. It is their own demons they must overcome. You see, when they were brought here, like everyone else they could not escape the corrupting touch that imagined this world. So all that have come here has had a tragedy befall them, some worse then others."

"My memory loss?"

"That I believe now was unintentionally caused by my spell."

"So I would not recall my tragedy, that makes sense I suppose, although I feel hollow without my memories, tragic though they may be."

"I know, and I'm sure it will wear off, just give it time." She squeezed his shoulder, feeling the hard leather under his cloak. "All will be remembered in time, for good or for ill."


	5. Chapter the Fifth

**Chapter 5 **

"So the first of them will be found in this Pointe Nexus?" Robin asked.

The three companions stood upon the crest of a hill looking down into the valley that was home to a bustling town. The Shaman had taken out some dried root and chewed on it absently before answering her guardian. "Yes, I warn you though, it's a strange little frontier town. Many individuals fleeing from the tyranny of the Sorcerer or the law of their own cities are here. Thieves, bounty hunters, traders and outcasts frequent the town." She then bent down to look at Bronx in the eyes. "I'm sorry my friend, but this is not a place for you." Bronx's features dropped and his eyes pleaded with her. "No, you cannot come with us. Too many people there know your race only as servants of the Sorcerer. Even though you walk in day light you will be looked upon with suspicion and fear." He hung his head in dismay. "I promise to bring you back something tasty, alright?" He gave her a forgiving lick upon her hands then lay down with his head between his front paws.

As the two travelled down the tree-laden hill, Robin asked if he would look conspicuous. "Even with my cloak up I'm sure sooner or later someone will get a good look at me."

"You need not worry, there are others like you."

This stopped the fox in his tracks. "Others?"

She turned to face him. "Ones that came before your world's end, although not **from** your world; the race of the Demi, neither fully human nor fully animal. Beings from across time and tales, this is a land of myths and legends my friend, you are not the strangest sight here."

"I do not doubt that for a moment." He said rolling his eyes as she continued down the hill.

As the two came closer they could better see the structures of the town, the most prominent feature being a rounded stone keep measuring about forty feet high made with grey stone slabs five foot long by three feet high. The top looked to be able to hold a platform with spaces left for archers to peer out from. Arrow slits also ran down the length of it concentrating at the front where a single door made of varnished wood enforced by metal bindings stood sentry.

Compared to this monolith the rest of the town was rather plain in comparison. Buildings had sprung up with apparently neither rhyme nor reason, simply that there was space at the time to build. Most of the structures were made of wood and thatch, very few with stone and all of varying designs. Robin recognized some with the likeness of towns he could recall from his world, two story structures with slanted roofs. Other structures that Robin had never seen before and were quite alien to him, one house in particular was squat, rounded and had the queerest roof he ever saw, it looked a drop of rain just meeting the ground before it loses its shape. Another home looked to be made of clay tiles with paper walls. The streets were a maze, street signs were crudely pounded into the ground but sometimes one did not know to which street the sign was naming where the one met the other.

As strange as he thought the houses, the beings that lived here were even stranger. Most of them were human, like the Shaman, dressed in all matters of style. Some wore simple tunics in this pleasant weather, others had clothing that was puffed out and covered with decorations. He saw one woman dressed in a long robe with over-sized sleeves cinched at the waist by a belt and two sticks tying her hair upon her head. Another lady wore black silks from head to toe leaving only her painted eyes exposed.

The first non-human they saw was at first **very** human looking. He was behind a stall dealing out what looked to be finely crafted spears and lances, he obviously forged the wares himself for he was a mass of muscle and upon a closer look he had the calloused hands of a blacksmith. As he stepped closer Robin could now see that he was only half a man. The stall that the half-man occupied was unusually large with a tall front display; this was to accommodate the length and height of one who is half man and half horse. The Centaur had fiery red hair upon his head his face and all along his forearms and chest. He wore a simple open tunic that matched the reddish brown coat of his lower body, tattoos covered his biceps revealing symbols that Robin could not translate although perhaps the Shaman could.

"Go ahead and have a look," the Shaman said. " I'll see about getting us a room in the Inn." When she saw his hesitation she added that she'd only be a moment and will return shortly, Robin relaxed and nodded his head.

He had heard of centaurs when he was a pup, tales of an ancient land were told to him by his grandmother but they never described what was now before him, in her tales the centaurs body was horse and fox but he supposed that their hybrid mix would change with the teller. A man wearing a light brown tunic with blonde hair had just finished purchasing spearheads and took his leave, which left the centaur to now notice Robin.

"Well, it **has** been a while since I've seen one of the Demi up in these lands," he said in a big booming voice directed at the guardian. "What brings you up to these lands my friend? Some sharp steel perhaps? I know you certainly lack that where you live, swamps don't give up much ore do they?"

Robin decided to go with the man's assumption, "Indeed, but such is not the reason why I'm up this way, for steel I have enough of," he said patting his scabbard. The centaur looked down and grinned.

"My, that looks like a fine crosspiece for your blade, may I see the rest of it?"

Robin grinned but shook his head. "Nay, I only unsheathe it if I intend to use it or to take care of it."

"Come now, don't be like that. I'm an admirer of steel in all its forms and my curiosity is now peaked because of your hesitation. I only wish to look, you can hold it at arms reach if yuir' scared." He grinned a challenge.

"Scared?" Robin grinned back, "Hardly, but I am not a braggart especially when the item in question was entrusted to me."

"Hmm, you are unlike any Demi I have ever met, you have a noble aura to ye, stubborn as well. Still if you do not wish to show me then very well, I shan't badger you." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Robin felt bad and shook his head. "No, I must apologize for I was being obstinate, here." He drew forth Albion silently from its sheath, the blade shone brightly in the sunlight and the reflection washed over the centaur's eyes.

"By Pan's Pipes, such a wonder I never did see, you say it was entrusted to you?"

"Aye, by my lady whom I have given a vow of guardianship to."

"And where did she find this magnificent weapon?"

"She did not say and I did not ask. If she wished me to know she would tell me."

"That scripture there, what does it mean?"

"That is the sword's name, Albion." The centaur must not be able to read, or he read a different language.

The Centaur clapped his hands in delight. "Hah ha. I know of this sword, or at least its brethren. Now what was it…. blast I canna' remember, but I have a tome that will tell me of it. Will you be staying at the Inn, the Knothole?"

"I believe so."

"Then I will come by at dusk and I will bring the tome with me, that is if you want to know about the blade."

"I'll think about it…er." He sheathed his sword again.

"Vessuivius, or "Vess" in short, and you?"

"Robin, well met Vess," He held out his hand, which the Centaur took, the strength in his grip was amazing but Robin didn't flinch. "I must now take my leave."

"I hope you will be in the common room this eve, every warrior should know where his weapon comes from."

Robin nodded a noncommittal gesture then turned from Vess's stall and headed towards the two-story Inn that his lady entered. On his way in he passed a tall dark cloaked individual with the hood pulled forward. The scent that Robin caught as he passed him was strong, masculinity mixed with blood. Robin stopped and turned but then a hand on his shoulder distracted him.

"Is something wrong?" Asked the Shaman.

"What? No, I don't think so." He tried to catch a glimpse of the figure again but he was lost to sight amongst the village crowd. "It was nothing, is the room prepared?"

"Almost, I need to trade for some supplies in the market, by the time I'm done the room will be prepared."

"Then I will accompany you."

The rest of the day was spent obtaining supplies, provisions, a new sleeping shelter, and miscellaneous items. The Shaman bought some herbs for which to make more poultices if necessary while Robin bought a pair of leather vanbraces. They also went back to visit Bronx and to give him a hunk of meat that they bought at the butchers. He happily tore into it and the two of them stayed with the Gargoyle until nightfall. While there Robin asked about his sword.

"I don't mean to be rude, but…how did you come upon Albion, if I may ask? And what do you know of its history."

She looked at him with soulful brown eyes and pushed an errant strand of hair from her face. "You are never rude my guardian, and you have every right to know about your weapon, however I do not know as much as you may think I do. It was given to me to give to one that was worthy to wield it and I have chosen you. Albion is one of the Seven Swords of Weyland and holds the powers of light and darkness that only a balanced individual may carry it."

"A 'balanced individual?' Robin scratched his chin. "What exactly does that mean? Never mind, I'm sure your going to say something cryptic that I'll need to figure out on my own." He said while waving his hands in front of him. The Shaman smiled and unrolled an extra blanket upon a patch of grass to which Bronx came and after turning on it twice finally settled down with a contented sigh. The Shaman stroked the Gargoyle's head and made soft humming sounds, lulling him into slumber.

"He didn't take long to adjust, to sleeping at night that is."

The Shaman nodded. "No, he is certainly a hardy creature, usually he would be active in his world, likely protecting his home during the night. Bronx is a very noble and loyal Gargoyle, I hope that his family do not worry too much."

"You said that you spoke with him before you summoned him, through the dreamscape I take it?"

"Yes, his was the easiest mind to contact from afar, having a rather uncomplicated mind. He's very intelligent you know." At this Bronx lifted his head and gave the Shaman a wet kiss. Both Guardian and Shaman laughed as the grey beast lay his head back down.

"Who gave you Albion?" Robin asked steering the conversation back to the sword.

The Shaman's face grew serious. "An enemy of the Sorcerer, a forest spirit that dwells in The Wild. He does not have the power to overthrow his enemy but he may aid his chosen ones through relics like Albion." She looked at him quizzically. "Why do you ask this now?"

Robin nodded towards the town, "The Centaur. He told me that he had a book that had information about it. I just didn't want to go behind your back."

"Nonsense, I don't mind if you want to learn about this world and what is contained here, knowledge is a weapon that should be well honed. Is he coming tonight to show you?"

"Yes, he'll be arriving soon at the Inn."

The Shaman stood up. "Then let us go to the warmth of the Inn, I have need for a warm bowl of stew anyhow, Bronx will be alright here." Robin stood up and slung his bow over his shoulder and together they walked down to Pointe Nexus heading towards the Knothole Inn.

The cloaked stranger watched from the concealing foliage as the pair left the Gargoyle behind. He flexed his fingers and fingered the blade of his kukri; a curved dagger with a sharpened inside curve tucked into his belt. He could strike now, likely they would be dead before they knew what hit them, but the Gargoyle posed a problem. He had fought one before and nearly lost. No, he would not take that risk; not when he was so close to the Shaman after all these months. As quiet as a cat he slipped into the shadows and was gone.


	6. Chapter the Sixth

**Chapter 6 **

The Knothole Inn and thereby The Knothole Tavern located within was by far one of the most liveliest buildings in Pointe Nexus at night. There were three drinking establishments in the town; The Sultan's Harem, The Emperor's Goblet and The Knothole rounding them out which was also the largest of the three and most popular. As the Shaman and Robin re-entered town the Fox kept his eyes open and his ears perked, he didn't like to be around crowded places with the Shaman for it was difficult to watch over her. She on the other hand certainly did not seem to mind as he noticed that she had quickened her pace towards the building. A human man with an unshaven face spotted her and gallantly opened the door for her. She smiled and thanked him politely, he was about to follow closely behind when Robin nudged in front of him and smiled a toothy grin that was both a thank-you and a warning. The man then decided it was best if he went to a different tavern.

The inside was warm and inviting and Robin was not at all surprised that the Shaman wanted to come here. Friendly conversation drifted through the rafters swirling with the smells of roast pork and beef. Six round tables were clustered in the middle with eight other booths around the outer edge. The walls were decorated with paintings depicting forests and lakes and the whole interior had the look that it was a hollowed out tree.

The Shaman found a table in a far corner when two women offered it to her as they were leaving. Robin held a chair out for her and she nodded her thanks. Before Robin sat down however he looked down at the pile of equipment they had bought. "If you don't mind I think I'll just bring these up to our rooms."

"Alright then," she placed her staff beside her against the booth's wall. "Then I shall order us a meal, what would you like?"

"Something with meat." He grinned and picked up their goods. "What can I say? I'm a born carnivore."

She laughed at his humour and signaled over a serving girl. Robin strode out of the tavern and into the connecting Inn. The Shaman had given him the key earlier and the location of the room. He found the spiral staircase leading upstairs and started to ascend, but before he got halfway up he heard a door slamming open and raised voices.

"Get out, what kind of a lady are you?" A man shouted from the second floor landing. Robin looked up and saw a woman with dishevelled brown hair and wearing only a blanket and holding her clothes in her arms seemingly being tossed out of a room. Immediately his chivalry kicked in and he was making his way quickly up the stairs to the woman's side. The woman saw him and smirked.

"Oh good, looks like I can't get away from hairy rescuers." The woman said while rolling her eyes. She looked back at the man who had kicked her out of the room. He was large with a thick black moustache that matched the colour of his hair; he wore only a pair of pants that looked to be hastily put on. "What's the matter?" She directed at the man. "Expected a doe eyed innocent to come to your room? Sorry to disappoint, but with the things you wanted to do no innocent would consent to and even I had to think about it." She smiled crookedly which seemed to get him all the angrier. He came at her with balled fists. The woman started to reach into her belongings but Robin was at her side before she got out what she was going for.

"Out of the way Demi, this is none of your damn business." He hollered at Robin.

Robin didn't move from the woman's side. Being close to them both he could now smell the stink of alcohol permeating the air between them, they both had been drinking heavily, although the man appeared to be more inebriated then she did. The moustached man extended his arm and attempted to shove Robin aside but suddenly found his arm behind his back and his body pressed up against the balcony's railing.

The man who was a foot and a half taller then Robin raged in pain as the Fox pushed his hand close to his neck. "If you want to see if you can scratch the base of your neck the long way, then keep struggling." The man stopped. "Now here me once for I will not repeat it, if I ever see you about to strike another lady I shall split you down the middle. Do I make myself clear?"

"But she isn't…she wanted…"

"Better agree Zappa, I think he means it." The woman said from behind Robin, she had dropped her blanket and had begun dressing in the middle of the hall.

"I'll kill you whore, arrgh." Robin pushed his arm up further.

"Please my lady, don't aggravate him, it isn't…what are you doing?" He had just noticed her state of nakedness. "Shouldn't you be doing that in a room?"

"Whose should I use? Yours?" She winked as she pulled her shirt on. "I don't have a room anymore, **he** was my room."

"You mean, you were with him just for his chamber?" Robin didn't hide his shock very well.

"Well it wasn't for his personality, and I didn't want to spend another night in a hay barn. Your breaking his arm by the way." Zappa had tears in his eyes before Robin realized what he was doing and released his arm lock. The man cradled his sore limb, shot another dirty look at the brown-haired woman then slunk back to his room, locking the door behind him.

"I thank you for your kindness Demi, but I could have handled him, next time ask before you race to a rescue." She finished dressing and lastly put a belt around her waist with a pouch on either side containing a strange iron contraption. "Looks like I'll be spending another night with the fleas."

Robin crossed his arms. "I'd offer you money but I can't be sure that you'd not drink it away." He curled his lip.

"No, you couldn't." She responded. She then placed a hat upon her head one that bore a wide brim that encircled the whole of it, good for keeping the sun from her face. "Have a good night Demi." She said as she descended the stairs. Robin shook his head; surprised by the manners of the young woman he realized he had a lot to learn about the Human culture. He picked up their possessions and proceeded down the hall to his room. Unlocking the door he entered the room and lit an oil lamp. The room was small but comfortable with a single bed, a nightstand and a chair next to the window. A connecting door led to the Shaman's room. He stored his equipment atop the bed then entered her chamber, bringing the lamp with him. He placed her things on the chair then approached her window and opened the curtain to peer outside. The street was empty but for a few beggars. One caught his eye however; he seemed to be staring right up at Robin, a moment more passed and the cloaked figure moved on. Before Robin could take action he heard the clop of hooves and spotted his newly made Centaur friend canter into view. He smiled, forgetting about the dark cloaked stranger and left the room locking the door behind him.

When Robin reached the tavern the barkeep had already ordered his kitchen hands to create a space for the Centaur to stand by his table where the Shaman was seated. The two had just made introductions to each other when Robin reached them. Vess's already broad grin stretched even wider as the Fox came to the table he extended his hand and heartily shook Robin's (although not as hard as before) and motioned for him to sit.

"I have just met your lovely companion and already she has refused my charms." He laughed loudly while waving over a bargirl. "A bottle of your finest, fair Lolitta and some roasted beef for my appetite." He gave her a slap on the posterior as she turned to leave; the young girl scolded him and he feigned fear from her waving finger. The Shaman and Robin grinned in secret; Robin could tell the Shaman liked the boisterous nature of the smith. He started conversing with them about his time here at Pointe Nexus, he had been smithing for thirty years come last month and has been a resident of the town for six of them. He explained that when the God Mountain fell all the folk of the surrounding lands scattered. He found himself here and decided to stay saying goodbye to the rest of his tribe. Back then it was nothing more then a shantytown barely holding its own. But with the depravations of the Sorcerer spreading and forcing all manner of folk to the road a good many of them found themselves here.

"Most of the residents are good people, hard workers who were afraid of that self-styled despot. It's true that Pointe Nexus has acquired a reputation for housing the dregs of the land but as long as Sorcerer it keeps his eyes elsewhere, well then we'll hold onto our shady disguise, but enough about us, you wanted to know more about your magnificent blade." He retrieved a plain looking volume bound in leather out from a satchel he had carried in and placed it beside atop the table.

"Where did you come upon this book, if I may ask." Queried the Shaman.

"You may, an old hermit gave it to me after I repaired a few of his gardening tools, he had nothing else to trade, actually I thought the payment too rich but he insisted. It is a wondrous tome filled with weapons of every kind like Artemis's Bow, Neptune's Trident, The Shield of Perseus and many others I have never heard about, including your sword; Albion. He had placed a bookmark where the swords entry was. Both the Shaman and Robin marvelled at the illuminated writing and the picture of seven swords splayed out like a fan portrayed within.

"You say a hermit had this?" Robin asked.

"Aye, if yuir wondering where he had gotten it I'd say he stole it."

"Or written it himself." The two looked at the Shaman with disbelief. "Do not look at me as if I have lost all senses, sometimes the most innocuous of things can hold the greatest treasures. Take the tome for example; although drab in appearance we have opened it to reveal beautiful scripture and art. That old hermit may only to have wished his knowledge to be passed out into the world, and he chose you Vess to be his messenger."

"Hmph, well you are wise lady Shaman and that certainly sounds better then my explanation that he was a thief. I for one should not judge a tome by its bindings." The Shaman nodded her head in approval and together they turned their gaze back to the book.

But on this night the Shaman nor Robin would discover the origin of Albion for a man who looked like he had seen a ghost came charging into the Knothole with terror upon his features. All conversation ceased, as he looked around wild eyed and pale. The words that came out of his mouth justified his appearance.

"Gargoyles have come out of the stone keep."


End file.
